FourTwenty
by ScarletFBL
Summary: Greg is the sheltered grandson of a powerful drug lord. Nick is the youngest nephew of a rival drug lord, looking for a way to higher his position in the ranks. Their fates collide and no one comes out of the ordeal unchanged.WARNING: Drugs, NickGreg
1. Chapter One

Greg stepped out of the jet and onto the runway. It was a private Jet, owned by his grandfather, Papa Olaf. He didn't really think that there was anything special about that. Nearly everything Greg came into contact with was owned by his grandfather from the planes, the cars, the homes, to the people that constantly surrounded the eighteen year old. He had known no other way of living. To Greg, this was perfectly normal.

He shielded his eyes from the hot sun and looked around. There was nothing, but desert around him and a few buildings scattered around the private airport. He knew that this wasn't what the rest of Las Vegas looked like, but he couldn't help being a little disappointed at this drab surroundings.

He'd asked his Papa Olaf for months if he could fly out of Norway to celebrate his eighteenth birthday. He had never been allowed to leave Norway, and barely even his grandfather's mansion, which was actually more like a compound, since his mother's death when he was nine. Papa Olaf told him that he need to be kept close to him, so that he could keep and eye on him, keep him safe. Of course, Greg, being the inquisitive child that he was had asked why. He was never given a clear reason.

He'd chosen Las Vegas because it had the reputation for being the Mecca of all things deviant and fun. At least, that's what Warrick had told him.

He looked straight ahead of him to the familiar sight of Warrick's silk covered back. He wiped away the light sheen of sweat that had already started to appear as soon as he had left the air conditioned jet.

"Here, sir."

He looked over at the 'third' of his three bodyguards, David Hodges. David was holding a handkerchief out to him. "Thank you," Greg said, smiling and reaching for it. Before he could get it, though, David moved it out of his reach and started patting Greg on the forehead, nearly poking him a the eye a couple of times. "Hey! Stop!" He flailed around while the older man laughed.

"Ahem!"

They both froze. Greg and Hodges looked over at the 'second' of this three bodyguards, Conrad Ecklie. He had a stern look on his face. Greg looked sheepish and snatched the handkerchief from David and stuffed it in his pocket.

Hodges clasped his hands behind his back and looked forward. A small smirk was still on his face.

Ecklie glared his disapproval at the two before he turned around. "The limo should be here any second," he said. Sure enough, a limo came down the runway and parked right in front of them.

Greg stood there and waited for Warrick to check the limousine and make sure that it was secure.

"Alright. Everything's clear. You can get inside, now," he said, once he got back out. He waited for Greg to get inside before going in himself. He was followed by Ecklie and Hodges and Catherine, Warrick's wife, and Greg chaperone and caretaker.

Greg laid out on the seat that was directly behind the chauffer and shivered a little. Going from an air-conditioned Jet, to the scorching Las Vegas heat, and then to an air-conditioned limousine was bound to make him sick, at least that's what his Papa Olaf always told him. He'd never noticed whether that was in fact true or not. It just wasn't too pleasant on his skin, which was breaking out in goose bumps. He put his foot against the side of the car. The partition was up and he couldn't see the chauffer, which also meant that the chauffer couldn't see him.

"How long until we get to Las Vegas, Rick?" He asked.

Warrick smiled at him. "We're already here. And sit up."

Greg sighed and sat up. He tugged at the neck of his dress shirt. "When we pass a shop, can I buy some casual clothes? I know that Papa likes to buy me nice things, but I miss being able to wear regular clothes, you know?"

Warrick nodded. "Yeah, just don't tell your grandfather," he said.

Greg smiled. "You know, he'll just find out, anyway. Thank you!" He leaped halfway across the limousine and hugged The older man.

"Oof! You're getting a little too big to be doing that, Greg," Warrick said, rubbing his thigh. Catherine laughed at Greg's antics.

Greg looked abashed and pulled away from Warrick. "Sorry, Rick." He wrung his hands in his lap. Him jumping on the other man probably did hurt a bit. He wasn't so small anymore.

Warrick smiled at him, and ruffled his hair. "Don't worry about it, Gutten."

Greg groaned and pushed Warrick's hand away. "I am not a little boy, anymore. You can stop calling me that," he said, frowning.

Warrick laughed and took Greg's chin in his hand. "You'll always be Gutten to me, Greg."

Greg rolled his eyes, but couldn't help blushing. His crush on Warrick and long since faded away, but there were still moments when the older man reminded him why he'd had a crush on him in the first place. He turned away and acted like he was about to take a nap. "Wake me when we get there," he threw over his shoulder.

"Okay, Gutten."

"Warrick!"

**----**

_**Same time, somewhere in Las Vegas….**_

Nick sat in his uncle's study. He was alone, and he didn't worry that he would be interrupted anytime soon. Everyone was out on 'business', and here he was, stuck at home being useless. He leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the marble desk. He reached over and started pulling at drawer handles. Of course, each and every one of them were all locked. He didn't expect a single one to be open, not when he knew his uncle.

He hated being left to his leisure. Although, being able to party all he wanted, albeit chaperoned, was fine, he just felt that it was time for him to be let into the family business.

He'd known what his uncle did for a living ever since he was sixteen, when his uncle deemed him old enough to know some things. He'd just taken everything in stride and didn't care very much about what most of his family did, as long as he got the newest cars, the best education, and the hottest women and men. Now, he wanted a piece of the action, but no one expected him to lift a finger.

"No, you're still too young, Pancho," his uncle had said in his thick Texan accent. "There's a lot of aspects of this business that I don't want you exposed to. I don't want you to be tested just yet. Stick to your partying and women…and men, while you still can." He told Nick.

Nick didn't want to wait. Just because he was the youngest male, and the second youngest child in the immediate family, he wasn't going to be some kept man for the rest of his life. He wanted the danger, and the adventure. He wanted the power.

He stood up and walked out of the study, grabbing his jacket off a chaise along the way.

Until he figured out how to prove his worth to his uncle, he would just play along with what was expected of him.

He pulled up in his Ferrari outside of an expensive eating establishment and waited for a valet to come to him. He turned and glanced into his rearview mirror.

"Fuck! I have another tail," he said. A black Mercedes had been following his ever since he had left his uncle's mansion. It passed him and turned the corner. He was sure that as soon as it was out of sight it would park around the block and whomever was watching him would continue to do so on foot. He was only slightly worried because his uncle had been known to use tails on him from time to time when things in the business got 'stressed' as his uncle called it, but he didn't recognize this particular car.

"Sir, may I take your car?"

Nick was pulled out of his reverie as the valet walked up to his car and waited for him to get out. "Oh, yeah, sure." He got out and tossed his keys to the uniformed man who looked to be older than himself. He didn't watch to see the man driving off with his car to the parking facility not too far away. He walked up to the restaurant.

"Welcome, Mr. Stokes. It's so nice to have you here, once again," the doorman said.

Nick smiled at the young man. "I'm sure it is. You comin' to the Bungalow, tonight?" He asked the doorman.

The doorman looked around, slightly panicked. "I-I thought that we weren't going to talk about the…you know what, out here," he hissed.

Nick laughed. "No, you must have been mistaken. _You_ are not allowed to talk about the Bungalow out here. I'm free to talk about it whenever the fuck I want," he said, coming in closer.

The doorman gasped and looked flushed. "Do you want me there?" He asked. His hands were balled into fists and he trembled with desire right where he stood.

"Actually, I want you right here, but I guess I'll have to settle for having you at the Bungalow, now, won't I?" Nick smirked. He watched as a shudder passed through the other man. "Aren't you supposed to be doing something, right about now?" He asked.

"Huh? Oh! I'm sorry." The doorman snapped out of it, and hurried to open the door for Nick.

Nick smiled and brushed some imaginary lint from the shoulder of his jacket, walking inside.

Greg nearly bounced in his seat with excitement. After the meal, he was finally going to be able to see some of Las Vegas. He didn't want to stop to eat, but Warrick insisted that they stop for a bite to eat before they starting touring around with big city.

Even though it wasn't dark, the lights still had their full effect on Greg. He'd never seen anything so flashy and colorful in Norway. He couldn't wait until nightfall. All of the different types of people fascinated him as well. The variety of things to do and people to see almost overwhelmed him.

He took a sip of his juice. He wasn't allowed to drink soft-drinks. Papa Olaf's orders. His grandfather didn't want him rotting his teeth on the sugary stuff. Alcohol was out of the question.

"Aren't you guys done yet? I am ready to go," Greg said. He pushed his plate away from him.

Catherine, who was sitting next to him at the round table, pushed his plate back towards him. "There's plenty of food on there, Greg. You are not finished and neither are we," she said.

Greg sighed and picked up his fork. He pushed his food around on his plate, not eating another bite.

On the other side of him, Warrick sighed. "Look, finish your juice and then we'll get out of here, okay?" He didn't looked at his wife. Catherine would have surely been giving him 'the look', but he couldn't help himself, sometimes. Greg was just so innocent and young and everything about him just made a person want to shelter him and keep him safe, and give him everything he could ever want.

Greg smiled and put down his fork, picked up his glass.

Nick was walked to his regular table by a waiter. He ordered his food and sent the waiter on his way. He looked around the place. He saw a sea of familiar faces. He stopped on a table. Now i them /i he had never seen before. They obviously weren't from here, that much Nick could tell, though, no one was really from Las Vegas. At least, no one that mattered to Nick was.

He surveyed the table. There were four men and a woman. The woman looked to be around his age, maybe older. Three of the men were in precisely pressed suits, sticking out like sore thumbs. They were obviously the hired muscle. One man was in his early to mid forties, while the other two had to be in their late twenties, early thirties. The last man, if he could be called that, looked to be legal, but just barely. He looked like he was still being dressed by his mother.

He was pouting and pushing his food around his plate while being admonished by the blond woman. The Black man sitting next to him spoke to him and the young man's face lit up, and stole Nick's breath away. He was a little younger than what Nick would have normally gone for, but something about the other man made Nick want to claim him as his.

He quickly scrawled a note, laughing silently at himself. He felt like he was still in school, passing notes to the girl he liked. He folded the piece of paper and waited for an opening. The three men looked formidable, but he was sure he could get past them. He'd been getting past his owned bodyguards since he was nineteen until his uncle had finally relented and let him leave the house without one.

There! The other man had just picked up his glass and started to take a drink. Nick got up, smoothly and walked towards him table. Once he got close enough, he acted like he was about to trip and pushed his elbow into the back of young man's head, causing him to spill his drink all over himself and the table. He smirked, inwardly. Those clothes needed to go, anyway. They were horrible.

Greg jumped up, coughing. Someone had just bumped into him, and his juice had gone down the wrong pipe.

"Oh, jeez! I'm so sorry," Nick said. He reached onto the table for a cloth napkin and made it seem like he was trying to help clean Greg off, while he was actually slipping the note into his pocket, expertly. No one noticed him doing so.

Warrick was the first of the table to jump up. He gently, but firmly pushed Nick away from Greg. "It's okay. I'll take it from here." He started to brush Greg off. He sent a pointed look to Hodges and Ecklie, telling them to keep an eye on Nick, making sure he didn't try anything funny.

Greg moved away from Warrick a little. "I'm fine, I'm fine!" He said, taking the handkerchief from his pocket and beginning to brush himself off and wipe his face. He was upset, now. Upset at the fact that he was now going to have to go all the way to the hotel to change into the clothes that he'd bought and Warrick had had sent to his suite. That was going to take an hour or two off of his touring time. He looked up at the person who had made him spill his drink, determined for the first time in his life to glare at someone and actually mean it.

The glare never came. He blushed and looked down. It was just his luck that someone so handsome would be the witness and proprietor of his humiliations. "Um, i-it's okay. I didn't s-spill that much on myself," he stammered. It was a lie. Such an obvious lie. It was everywhere.

Nick was delighted by the slight accent the young man had. He smiled and was about to say something, when two waiters came to the table.

"Sirs, do you need any help?" One asked.

Warrick shook his head. "No. We were just leaving. How much for the tablecloth?" He asked, indicating the now ruined, expensive linen.

"Oh, nothing, sir! Not for such a valued customer!" The same waiter simpered.

Warrick nodded, not expecting a different answer. "Alright. We should be going." He took Greg by the hand and led him out of the restaurant. The others followed after him, Hodges and Ecklie still keeping an eye on Nick. People's heads turned after them in their wake.

"Mr. Stokes, if you'd still like to continue your meal here, could I please lead you to your seat?" The other waiter said, this time.

Nick watched Greg walk out of the door until he could no longer see him. He turned to the waiter. "Lead the way."

A/N: Wee! I have started a new fic. Things got resolved a bit faster than I thought that they would, so I had a lot of free time on my hands. I hope you guys like it. Bungalow 8 does exist, but I have no idea where it is, so let's just imagine that it's in Las Vegas, okay? Oh, and my Norwegian is **horrible**, so please don't gather the mob to run me out of fanfic-ville.


	2. Chapter Two

"Rick. Rick, wait!" Greg huffed. He stopped outside of the restaurant pulled his hand from Warrick's. He shook his numb hand.

The limousine had already been called for and the valet pulled up in front of them. The chauffer came over to them from a café across the street. Warrick had let him go there while they dined, otherwise, he would have just had to wait with the car. The man's job prevented him from fraternizing with his passengers. The chauffer checked in with Ecklie. Ecklie nodded at something the man said and the chauffer took the valet's place in the driver's seat. Hedges re-checked the car and gave Warrick the thumbs up.

Warrick looked at Greg. "I'm sorry, Greg. It's just that…." He paused. There was no way that he could tell Greg what he was really thinking. He doubted that what happened on the inside of the restaurant was an accident. When the other man had been trying to clean Greg off, his lingering touches and leering looks had told him that much. It took all Warrick had in him not to break the other man's hands. The man didn't know how lucky he was that Warrick didn't want to cause another scene and expose their presence there even more.

And Greg's lack of knowledge about the whole thing worried him. The older the boy got, the more beautiful he became, and the more unwanted advances he seemed to receive. He never knew about the majority of them. His grandfather, Warrick and his other bodyguards had seen to that.

He put his arm around Greg's shoulder. "It's just that I know how upset you're going to be if we miss a lot of time from your touring schedule, so I was in a bit of a hurry. I'm sorry for dragging you off like that."

Greg looked like he wanted to argue further, but decided against it. "It's okay. Let's just get to the hotel so I can get out of these sticky clothes," he said. He got into the limousine. The others followed him inside.

Inside the restaurant, Nick called a waiter over to him. The waiter immediately dropped what he was doing and came over to see what Nick wanted.

"Did you need something, Mr. Stokes?" He said.

Nick nodded. "Yeah. I've decided that I won't be needing to have my meal prepared, after all. Give my regards to the chef," he said. He pushed his chair away from the table. He got up.

"Of course, Mr. Stokes."

Nick walked out of the restaurant and looked down the street just in time to see a limousine turn down the boulevard. He had a feeling that his beautiful young man was inside that vehicle.

It was only another minute before the valet pulled up with his car. He took his keys from the man and got in. Ordinary, he would have driven after the car and seen where the young man lived, but he didn't want to scared the boy off. He honestly hadn't seemed to notice that Nick had bumped into him on purpose.

**nn"**

Greg walked into his hotel suite and sighed. By the time they had actually gotten home, he felt and smelled like a giant lollipop. He grimaced a little as he pulled the sticky mess that was his pants away from his thigh. He heard a faint crinkling noise. He stopped. He must have had something in his pocket. He hoped that it wasn't important, or it would have surely been ruined by now. He dug in one pocket. Nothing was in there. He dug into the other. He pulled out a piece of paper. It was a little wet, but not too badly. He unfolded it and started to read it.

"_Hey, hot stuff. You looking for a good time while you're here in Vegas?"_

"_Give me a call 555-5380. I'll show you a time you'll never forget."_

"_Nick"_

Greg nearly dropped the note. This wasn't some sort of joke, was it? He looked around his empty room, then at the door that lead out to the hall. He knew that Ecklie was standing guard right outside. If anyone had been playing a joke on him, it _definitely_ wasn't Ecklie. The man would have probably turned him into stone with a single glare for even suggesting it. His mind turned to Hodges.

There was definitely a possibility that the other man had done this. He played pranks on Greg on a daily basis, as long as it didn't effect how he did his job, or interfere with his duties.

Greg sighed and crumpled up the piece of paper. He threw it in the vicinity of the waste basket, but it didn't come anywhere close. It just slapped against the nightstand next to his bed and fell to the floor. He couldn't believe that he had felt a little spark of hope at the idea that someone could have actually thought that he was worth pursuing.

He walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He stripped and got in. He washed away all the traces of stickiness and everywhere else, just for good measure. He got out a pulled a towel of the rod hanging off the wall. He blotted himself dry before wrapping the towel around his hips and walking back into his room. He walked over to the bed and picked up the clothes that Catherine had laid out for him. He dropped the towel and put them on. He walked back into the bathroom and fixed his hair. It was getting a bit long. It nearly covered his ears and, in the back, it rested against his collar. He left the top button of his shirt undone. It was hot in Las Vegas, and Greg had requested casual clothes, but Catherine had insisted on buying shirts with collars on them. So much for casual.

He walked to the front door and opened it. Ecklie looked down at him.

"You ready?" Ecklie asked, gruffly.

"Yes," Greg said.

Ecklie took out his cell phone and called Hodges to let him know that Greg was ready. He was staying in a room that was further down the hall.

Greg could already feel his excitement starting to bubble back to the surface as Warrick walked out of his room followed by Catherine. It was time to go.

He pulled Hodges to the side as the man walked down the corridor.

Warrick looked at them oddly, but Greg waved him of, smiling. He shrugged and went back to talking with Catherine.

"Greg, what are you doing?" Hodges asked.

Greg waited for the others to get a little ways ahead of them before he spoke. "David…um, did you slip a note into my pocket earlier?" He asked.

Hodges frowned. "No, why?"

Greg bit his lip. "Are you sure? You are not playing some silly prank on me, are you?"

Hodges shook his head. "No, I'm not, this time. Seriously." He looked at Greg. "You're starting to worry me a little, here, Greg." He put a hand on Greg's shoulder, stopping him. "Did someone actually put a note in your pocket?"

Greg shook his head. "No. It must have been something that someone left in the trousers before I got them. You know, when people try them on at the store? It was just a little to-do list that someone forgot. I've already thrown it away," he lied. He started walking again.

Hodges walked in step with him. "You sure? There's not anything that you want to tell me, is there?" He asked.

Greg shook his head. Hodges stared at him for a moment longer before he turned away and Greg let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

He hated to lie to his friend, but his mind was reeling. Could the note really be from someone that wanted to ask him out?

**nn"**

Nick walked into his room and threw his jacket onto a chair in the corner. Even though his car had air conditioning, the long trek from the garages to the main house left him a bit sweaty from the sweltering heat. He started to take his shirt off.

"As much as I'd love to sit back and enjoy the show you're putting on, I actually came for a reason."

Nick snapped around. His eyes fell on Sara sitting on his bed. He sneered. "Shouldn't you be in my _grandfather's_ bed, and not mine? I don't think he'd be too happy about you being here."

Sara smirked. She got up and walked over to him. "Oh, don't be like that, Nicky," she cooed.

"It's Nick, and I'll be however the fuck I want to be." He walked away from her and continued to take off his shirt. He ignored the low whistle that he heard behind him. "Say what you have to say, and then get out. I don't have time for your shit tonight, Sara," he said, not looking at her as he rummaged through his drawers for another shirt. He pulled out a thin cotton one. It was vintage. He put it on.

"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky…." She let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. I want you to stop fucking the doorman at Lotus."

Nick slowly turned around. "You are _not_ trying to tell me who I can see now, are you?"

She waved a hand at him. "No, of course not. I'm merely… suggesting that you no longer see that nice young man. He's the son of one of my dear friends."

Nick snorted in and ungentlemanly fashion. "We both know that you don't have any friends, let alone dear ones. More like acquaintances who are dazzled by my grandfather's money. You just happen to be the woman he lets into his bed every night."

She laughed. "True, but do this for me. I can't have this getting back to me if you break the poor bastard's heart. I have a reputation to uphold."

"How can I make a bad reputation even worse?" Nick asked.

Sara ignored his question and moved closer to him. She moved well into his personal space.

Nick sneered at her, but didn't move back. He never let his guard down around the woman. She may have had her claws in his unsuspecting grandfather's back, but Nick stayed well clear of her when he could, and never turned his back to her when he couldn't. She seemed to think that it was some kind of a game, him playing hard to get, but it wasn't. He truly despised her very existence.

"I don't see what my grandfather sees in you…besides the fact that he knocked you up and you had his kid," he said.

Sara smirked again. "I'm a good lay. No man is able to resist that. You wouldn't be able to, either, if you'd just give me the chance to prove it to you," she said, looking at him with a lust-filled gaze. She reached up and ran her hand down the side of his face.

Nick turned his face away in disgust. He didn't even want to touch her to get away from him. "Yeah? Then you woke up. Stop daydreaming, Sara." He walked past her and opened the door. "Stay in here if you want to. It'll be the last time you see the inside of my room. I'll have a guard keep you out while I'm gone if I have to." With that, he walked out and slammed the door behind him, leaving Sara inside.

Sara's face darkened. Her jaw clenched. Nick should be glad that she even wanted him! How dare he continue to reject her advances? No man had ever told her no, except Nick. That made her want him even more. She walked over to Nick's desk and picked up a ceramic figurine. She held it in her hand and looked at it.

"This looks expensive," she said to herself. "Must be a family heirloom." She threw it across the room and watched in satisfaction as it burst into a million pieces as it made contact with the wall. She composed herself and briefly checked herself in the mirror above Nick's dresser before she walked silently out of the room.

**nn"**

Greg bounced on the balls of his feet as he rode the elevator back up to his room. "That was so great, Rick! I've never seen anything like that. There were acrobats and showgirls," he gushed about the last show they'd just left. "I wish we could have stayed longer."

"Not really. After that show, they were going to bring out the nude girls. You don't want to see that, do you, Greg?" Catherine asked.

"Um…no." Greg blushed. While Greg wasn't all that interested in the female form, he would have like to see _any_ kind of nudity, other than his own, for the first time. He wasn't about to tell Catherine that, though.

The elevator pinged and the doors opened on their floor. They stepped out and dropped Greg off at his suite first, passing up their own. Greg said good night to everyone. Hodges say goodnight, while Ecklie simply nodded his head and they both went off to their respective rooms, leaving Warrick and Catherine outside with Greg.

Goodnight, little one, Warrick said in Norwegian.

"Rick, how many time do I have to tell you that I'm not a little kid anymore?" He walked inside his room and shut the door in the laughing man's face. He walked over to his bed and lied down on it. He could hear Warrick turning the door handle, making sure that the door had automatically locked after him.

Outside, Warrick put his arm around his wife. "Cath, you really shouldn't tease him about stuff like that. You know that he isn't interested in girls, yet. I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible. When he starts dating, it's going to be pandemonium." He laughed. He opened the door to their suite and they went in. Warrick sat down on the bed, took off his dress coat and began to undo his tie.

Catherine laughed. "Oh, don't worry. It was just a little teasing. I didn't mean anything by it. Honestly, you're too protective of him, sometimes," she said. "Besides, I don't think that he's going to be liking girl anytime soon. They aren't his thing."

Warrick's looked at his wife. He raised an eyebrow. "What are you trying to say?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, _honestly_ Warrick, that boy will never like girls. He's interested in boys."

Warrick frowned. "No, he isn't. Why would you say something like that?"

Catherine sat down next to him. "Because it's true. You're telling me you really haven't noticed? He's had a crush on you for the past three years."

Warrick's green eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

Catherine nodded. "Yes. I mean, it wasn't ever that obvious. I don't think that Greg could ever be that bold. I could tell, though. Call it woman's/wife's intuition."

Warrick slumped a little and looked blankly at the floor. He rubbed at his chin. "I can't believe that I've never noticed it, either. I mean, we've been close since he was little. I thought that I would have known it if he was interested in someone."

Catherine smiled and rubbed his back. "Don't worry, Warrick. You still know more about that boy than any of us will ever know. He tells you everything. I guess that you really couldn't have known since you were the person of interest and he was trying to hide it from everyone, especially you."

Warrick nodded, somewhat comforted. He looked at his wife. "He…doesn't still have a crush on me, now, does he?" He asked.

"No. He seems to have gotten over it. He still gets all flustered around you, but that's understandable. I think that you were the first person that he's ever liked like that," Catherine said.

Warrick let out a sigh of relief. "That's good." He looked back down at the floor, then back. He smiled. "I guess this means that I don't have to worry about him getting some girl pregnant and her going after his grandfather's money, huh?"

Catherine smacked him on the arm. "You should be glad he liked you!" She couldn't help laughing a little. "It's so cute."

Warrick laughed and took Catherine into his arms. "I am glad. I'm just even more glad that a certain someone likes me even more." He leaned forward and kissed her.

Catherine pulled back and looked at him. "Says who?"

Warrick sputtered and Catherine just laughed. She pushed him down on the bed and kissed him breathless.

**nn"**

Greg lifted up his shirt and scratched at his stomach a little. Twenty minutes after he had come back, the adrenaline that he been running on for most of the day had run out, yet he still felt a little restless. He got up and walked into the suite's sitting room. He turned on the plasma TV and flicked through channels. He turned it back off. Even in the U.S. there was nothing on at this time of night. A clock on one of the glass tables had 11:56 p.m. on it. He was so bored.

He resigned himself to going to bed. He walked back into the room and walked over to the bed. He changed into his pajamas, which consisted of drawstring pants and a t-shirt and began to turn the bed down. When he pulled the comforter away from the bed it hit the piece of paper that he had thrown near the nightstand earlier that day, sending it scuttling across the floor. He watched as it came to a stop in the middle of the floor.

He had forgotten all about the note. He walked over to it, and hesitated picking it up. He looked at it like it was some kind of overlarge bug. He took a deep breath and picked it up. He opened it back up and flattened it out as much as he could against his leg. He walked over and sat on his bed. He stared at it for a moment.

He bit his thumbnail. He was battling his conscience. Should he call the number, or shouldn't he? Warrick would be mad if he did, and he'd be in big trouble once he got home. He wasn't allowed to date. But whoever this Nick was hadn't said that he was interested in a date, had he? Maybe they'd just go out dancing, or out to eat, or something, and he'd be back before Warrick even woke up. He'd come out here to have fun. What could it hurt?

He picked up the phone a dialed.

A/N: I hope that you guys liked this chapter! Sorry to you Sara lovers. She's a big ol' meanie in here. Thanks to csinikki for showing me how to do the horizontal line break thingie, and Rhardin for telling me what to call a dress coat!

**nn"**


	3. Chapter Three

Nick lounged around the house until it was well into the night. He was so upset over Sara that he had decided not to go out with the doorman from the Lotus. The whole time that he would be with them man, he would be reminded of Sara's request earlier that day, and then, ultimately, her proposition. He shuddered at the thought. It didn't matter that he was into women as well, he wouldn't touch her if his life depended on it.

Thankfully, the woman had chosen to make herself scarce for the rest of the day after that little incident in his room. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen his grandfather for the rest of the night, either. Well, at least he knew where she was, even if he didn't want to know what details of _what_.

He settled down to watch TV in one of the living rooms, but quickly found out that there was nothing on. He sighed and threw down the remote. He made his way upstairs to his room. He open the door and went inside. He only took a few steps in before he heard an odd crunch underneath his shoes. He looked down.

He walked in the rest of the way before closing the door behind him. He crouched down and picked up a piece of something that looked to be ceramic.

"What the hell?" He looked for a bigger piece, which was only slightly larger than the first one, and turned it around in his hands, carefully. He recognized the pattern on that piece almost immediately. His head snapped around to his desk.

He dropped the piece down onto the floor and walked over to his desk. His ceramic figurine was indeed missing. No, not missing. It was laying in about a million pieces on his floor. He had a good idea of who might have broken it. "That fucking whore!" He yelled. He slammed his fist down onto the his desk.

The figurine had been a gift from his grandfather when he was twelve. He had cherished the thing ever since then, always keeping it where he could see it to remind himself of his grandfather when he went on long trips. Now, he had nothing but shattered pieces of clay.

He didn't feel like calling a maid in at this time of night, just to clean yet another mess that Sara had made. He just used a piece of paper to scoop up as much of the ceramic as he could. The rest would be cleaned up on the maid's daily pass-through. He put the pieces and the paper into a the wastebasket by his desk. He then walked into his bathroom to wash his hands.

He thought about taking a shower, but decided against it. He wasn't going anywhere, but to bed, and he would just sweat the freshness away during the night. He sighed and walked back into his room. He stripped down to his boxers and was about to get into bed, when his cell phone rang. His eyes immediately went to his nightstand, expecting to see the device, but it wasn't in it's usual place. He sighed again. He must have been so distracted by Sara's presence in his room that he did even take his phone out of his jacket pocket. He walked over to the chair and removed it from his jacket. He looked at the caller ID, but didn't recognize the number. He shrugged and flipped open his phone.

"Hello?" He said.

"...Um, hi. I-is this Nick?" A voice asked. It sounded young, and male, with a slight accent. Nick snorted in his mind. Yeah, that narrowed it down a bit. It wasn't like it was everyday that young men from every walk of life called Nick on his cell. Absolutely not.

"Who's askin'?" He asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. This is Greg," Greg said.

Nick sat down on the bed and laid back against the pillows, crossing his legs at the ankles. He put his hand behind his head. "You're gonna have to narrow it down a little, buddy," he said. He knew about fifty 'Gregs'.

"It's the Greg from at Lotus. Remember, you accidentally bumped into me and I spilled my drink?" Greg asked.

The image of the young man from earlier that day flashed through his mind. He was still flushed, and his shirt was translucent from the liquid spilled down his front. Nick could see the outline of the young man's lean torso though the material and it was all Nick had in him not to rip the shirt off the boy and lick the juice off of him. Nick's hand came from behind his head and splayed on his own torso at the thought. "Oh, _that_ Greg."

"Yeah!" Greg laughed, nervously. "I didn't think you'd remember me."

Nick smiled. It was refreshing that the boy sounded so insecure and positively naive, instead of jaded and self-important like he was used to dealing with. "How could I forget a face like yours?" And a body like his, too. Too bad it was covered in those horrible mama's boy clothes.

Greg laughed again. Nick could see him blushing like some sweet little thing. It stirred something inside of Nick. He couldn't quite put his finger on what that 'something' was, but it felt damn good, so why question it?

"Um, so, I was wondering...Since you left me that note..." Greg paused.

"Yeah?" _'Come on, spit it out. You can do it. It's not that hard,'_ Nick thought.

"I was wondering it you really wanted to go out with me," Greg said in a rush.

Go out with him? No. Nick didn't 'go out' with anyone. "I'm willing to have some fun, tonight. I need a change," he said.

"Really? So, are you coming to pick me up? I don't really have a way to get to you."

Nick's thumb rubbed circles on his stomach. "Sure. What hotel are you staying at?"

"How'd you know I was staying at a hotel?" Greg asked, surprised.

"You don't look or act like you're from here. Hell, I'm not from here, and I find myself getting caught up in it all every once in a while. Anyway, you must not have been here before, and even if you have, not for long."

"That's right. It is my first time here in Las Vegas."

"I thought as much. So, what hotel?" Nick asked again.

"Oh, um, I'm at the Venetian Resort Hotel and Casino. Do you need directions?"

"Nah. I know exactly where that is," Nick said. He should know. He'd been there plenty of times for midnight rendezvous', and just to crash when he didn't feel like staying at home. A seven hundred and fifty dollar a night crash pad. He'd been known to stay there for weeks on end. As long as his uncle was footing the bill, Nick had no problem with blowing his money on expensive hotel accommodations.

"Okay. So..." Greg paused. "Around 12:30?" He asked, cautiously.

"Perfect. I'll be there," Nick said.

"Okay. Um, bye."

"Yeah." Nick flipped his phone shut. He smiled and pumped his fist in the air, letting out a whoop before he realized how it would sound to the help if they were to walk outside his room right now. He quickly quieted. He laid on his bed, staring at the canopy for a moment. He hadn't been this excited about meeting up with someone in a while. Okay, more than a while, but who's counting? There was just something about that boy that just made him want to ravish him one moment, and then coddle him the next. Even the mere memory of him was intoxicating. He stood up and shed his boxers.

He was going to be needing that shower tonight after all.

----

Greg hung up the phone and jumped up on the cushion of the chair, squealing in delight. He covered his mouth, fearing that Warrick or Catherine would hear. He settled for giggling fitfully behind his hand, his bottom settled firmly on the cushion. He settled himself. Giggling was not manly. Giggling meant that he was a kid, and he wasn't. He was going on a da- no, i out /i with a grown man. A grown man wouldn't have asked him out if he was still a kid, right? It was time for him to start acting like one.

He got up and walked into his bathroom. He took off his clothes and took a quick shower. He only had thirty minutes to get ready, after all. He got out and wrapped a fluffy hotel towel around his hips. He walked into his room and looked through his closet for something to wear. He pulled out a hanger. It had a light green polo shirt, and dark blue Dickies on it. This should be good. Catherine had picked it out. He fingered the collar distastefully. He just wished it didn't have a collar, though. He shrugged and laid the outfit on the bed. He walked over to his drawer and pulled out a new pair of boxers. He slid them on and then moved over to the bed and put on his clothes. He put on shoes and socks and looked at the clock on his nightstand. He had seven minutes until he had to be down at the lobby. He walked back into the bathroom and tried to do something with his hair. He ran an comb through it a few times and then looked at himself in the mirror. Well, at least it wasn't messy.

He walked back into his bedroom and picked up his cardkey and then found his wallet. He put the card in his wallet, briefly checking to see if he had enough money for the night. "I hope two-thousand dollars is going to be enough," he said aloud. He closed up his wallet and stuffed it into his back pocket. He rummaged in his bag for his watch. Finding it, he put it on. He picked up a black Dickies jacket and draped it over his arm. He took one last look at himself in the mirror in the bathroom before he walked to the front door.

He gingerly turned the lock, thankful that it didn't make any noise. He slowly opened the door and peaked outside. The coast was clear. He didn't expect anyone to be standing outside of his door, but he'd known Warrick to do so on occasion. The man would usually smile at him and tell him to go back to bed, and that he could get Greg whatever he wanted for him. Well, tonight, Greg didn't want to go to bed, and he sure didn't want something that Warrick could give him, at least not anymore.

He walked out, closing the door silently behind him. He then walked to the elevator and pressed the button, waiting for it to come back up to his floor. The doors soon pinged upon and he stepped inside. Once the doors closed and he pressed the button for the lobby, he leaned back against the railing and let out a breath. He'd made it out without getting caught. He found himself wanting to giggle again, but he held it in, settling for making faces at himself in the mirrored backing of the elevator. The doors pinged open once again and he walked out into the lobby.

For it being after midnight, it was sure a lot of people out and about here, or so Greg thought. He pulled his collar up, and lowered his head, hoping not to be spotted. It would be just his luck for Hodges to be out and about doing whatever it is that he does when he's not on duty and catch him out of his room. He sat on a chaise and took a look around the room. He didn't see Nick anywhere. He looked back down at his watch. It was already 12:30, shouldn't Nick be here?

He waited.

And he waited. Still, no Nick. There was a faint tightening in his chest, and his face was starting to get hot. He felt like crying. Did Nick really stand him up? Of course, he did. Nick had probably remembered exactly who he was and was repulsed. Who would want a kid like him? He wasn't sexy, and he wasn't confident, or mature. He was just...Greg. Gutten. Always has been, always would be. He wiped at his stinging eyes with his jacket.

"Greg?" He heard above him.

"What?" He mumbled, not looking up.

"Sorry, I'm late. Are you okay?"

Greg looked up at those words. He'd never been so happy to see a near stranger in his life. "Nick!" So, he hadn't been stood up! He jumped up and put his arms around Nick.

Nick stumbled back, stunned. Normally, he would have been a little appalled that someone had taken such a liberty as to touch him without his permission, but with Greg, it seemed okay. Odd, but okay. He patted the boy's back awkwardly. He'd walked into the hotel lobby, eighteen minutes late and saw Greg sitting there on a chaise, looking around anxiously. Before he had gotten to him, he saw the boy's face crumble. Oh, fuck, did he think that he stood him up? Okay, so, maybe he should have expected that, but he'd been known to make guys wait hours for him. Hm, would Greg have known that? Probably not, seeing as he wasn't even from here. It was Nick's mistake, one that he would rectify.

When Greg finally pulled away, he was smiling, if still a bit red-nosed. Nick found it adorable.

Greg laughed a little. He scrubbed at his nosed. "Oh, man, I'm sorry."

Nick shrugged. "Nah, it's cool." Nick draped an arm around Greg's shoulders. They started walking towards the doors. "First thing's first; we gotta get you some new threads."

"Threads?"

"Clothes," Nick said, picking distastefully at Greg's Polo. "Your clothes aren't my style. In fact, I don't even think they're this decade's style."

Greg looked down at himself. "But...I like these clothes. Catherine picked them out for me." He pouted.

Nick snorted. "Yeah, can tell. Your clothes look like something your mother picked out." He placed his hand under Greg's chin and tilted his head up so that their eyes met. "You need something that'll fit _you_." He ran his thumb across Greg's chin.

Greg drew in a shuddering breath. "I do?"

Nick smiled. "Yeah, you do." He dropped his hand and pushed open the door and they walked out of the hotel. A valet was standing by Nick's Ferrari waiting for him to return. He tossed the keys to Nick.

"Thanks, Donté," Nick said.

The valet gave him a smile with unnaturally white teeth. "No prob, Nick. Anything for you." He winked at Nick. He looked at Greg. "Who's the twink?" He asked Nick.

Nick shot him a look. "Shut up, Donté!"

Donté raised his hands. "Hey, sorry, sorry!" He made a zipping motion over his mouth with his hand, then shook his head and walked away.

"How come you had a valet?" Greg asked as Nick opened the door for him. "You aren't staying here, are you?"

"No." Nick shook his head and walked over to the other side of the car. "I just stay here a lot."

Greg nodded. "Oh, so that's how you know Donté?"

Nick opened his door and then looked at Greg. He sighed and looked to the side. "Yeah, _that's_ how I know him. Get in."

They both got in and Nick drove away from the hotel and down the Strip. Greg's fingers drummed nervously on his thighs. "So, where are we going?" He asked.

Nick looked over at him. "A place my friend owns. It's a vintage clothing store. Since you seem to be living in a decade past, I think I could make it work for you, but...more stylish. Oh, that reminds me!" He pulled out his cell phone and then dialed a number. "Hey, Rick..."

Greg heart pounded in his chest. Could Nick really be calling Warrick to tell him what he'd done? His hands wrung in his lap. He bit his lip.

Nick looked over at him. "Hey, what's wrong? No, not you, Rick!"

"O-oh, nothing. It's just that your friend and my friend have the same name," Greg said.

Nick nodded. "Hm, I doubt that you know him. He's been here his whole life, since before Vegas was what it is today."

Greg let out a breath of relief. "Oh! My mistake."

Nick shrugged and turned back to the road. "Huh? Yeah, I know _I_ called _you_. Listen, I've got a little project for you. No, not _that_ kinda project. Mind out of the gutter, old man," Nick laughed into the phone. "Seriously, can you open the doors for me this once?" He listened to the man on the other line, falling silent for a moment. "Yes, I know what time it is. Okay, I'll owe you, but, mark my words, you'll see why when I get there." He turned off his phone. He lifted up the middle armrest and Greg saw that it was hollow on the inside. Nick threw his cell phone into it and then dropped the armrest back down. He looked over at Greg again.

He smiled. "One step towards making you the hottest piece in Las Vegas." He revved the car, speeding them even faster down the Strip.

Greg blushed and looked away, biting his thumbnail. Him? Hot? It was impossible, but if Nick thought that he could do it, why not let him try? He looked back at Nick, and a question popped into his head.

"Hey, Nick, what's a twink?"

Greg sat in the car, feeling the jeans across his thighs.

Nick raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, if you keep rubbing at them like that, you're going to rub a hole right through them. They're vintage," he said, amused.

"I'm sorry. It's just that they're so..." Greg stopped, searching for words to say.

"Retro? This decade? Vegas-y? What?" Nick offered.

"_Tight_," he said, wriggling in his seat.

"Oh, you mean better fitting than those ill-fitting potato sacks you called Dickies? At least, now I can tell you have legs."

Greg sighed. "Yeah, but you can tell something else, too."

Nick smirked. "Yeah? Like what?"

Greg looked around. Nick wondered why. They were alone in the car, of course. There were only two seats. "You can see that I'm not wearing any underwear!" He hissed.

Nick laughed. "Isn't that the point?"

Greg frowned. "I don't know. Is it?" He asked.

Nick laughed again. "You're kidding me, right?" Greg just looked at him even more confused. "Oh, shit, you're not kidding me." For some reason, his smile just seemed to get a whole lot bigger. He laughed again.

Greg laughed a little, too, even though he wasn't really wise to what had just happened. "Your Rick was nice. I just wish that he would have let me keep my other clothes," he said.

Nick shrugged. "Well, I guess that he wanted the honor of getting rid of those things, himself. He thinks that bad fashion is a personal affront to his delicate nature," he said, repeating the words that the older man had said earlier. He chuckled. "If you ask me, I think that he wanted to burn them."

"I guess...If they were really _that_ bad..."

"Oh, they were!"

Greg laughed and rolled his eyes. "Well, anyway, thanks for buying these for me. Oh, and the haircut!" He reached up and touched his hair. He now had honey and blond highlights and that 'just rolled out of bed' look, whatever _that_ meant.

Nick reached over and ran his hand through Greg's hair. Greg shuddered. They looked into each other's eyes. "I think it looks really good on you." They moved closer.

"You do?" Greg asked, breathlessly. Even closer, now.

Almost touching. "Yeah, I do." They both closed their eyes.

BEEEEEEP!

They both jumped apart.

"Hey! The light is _green_, man!" An angry driver yelled out of his window at Nick.

Nick growled and put the car back into gear. "Fuck, hold your horses, asshole!" He yelled. He started to drive.

Greg sat back and looked out of the passenger's side window, his face beet red. He; Greg, was just about to kiss another guy; Nick. He could feel it. He wished that impatient driver's patience had run a little longer than it did. Then, Greg would have had his first kiss. He sighed. He turned back to Nick.

"So, where're we headed?" He asked.

Nick looked back at him. "Why, to Bungalow 8, of course." His smile returned.

Greg felt a certain feeling go through him at the sort of smile that Nick gave him at that moment.

----

**Back at the hotel...**

Warrick shot up. He'd just seen a strange image in his dream, had a strange feeling, but now that he was awake, he couldn't remember what it was about. He turned his head and listened to the quiet.

He'd gotten a room right next to Greg's so that he could hear it if anyone tried to get into the boy's room. Any small noise of entry would have had him alert and awake straight away, but he hadn't heard any. He frowned in his half-sleep state. He looked back down at his wife. She was still fast asleep. Thankfully, he hadn't woken her up. He sighed and laid back down, spooning up behind Catherine. She mumbled in her sleep and put her arm around his.

Little did he know that it wasn't the sounds of entry that he should be looking for, but the sounds of a certain someone _exiting_.

A/N: Gah! I seem to always leave things right before we get to the club scenes, don't I? Well, I'm gonna head off to sleep anyway, 'cuz I've been up for, say 24 hours. Fo shizzy. Falls asleep on keyboard ¦- Zzzzz


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